


Charades

by methylviolet10b



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Prompt Fic, Watson's Woes WAdvent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-23 22:25:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13199820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b
Summary: Observations at a Christmas party lead to a discovery.





	Charades

**Author's Note:**

> Written for WAdvent Open Posting Day #5 on Watson's Woes. Ridiculously fluffy, because I really need some fluff right now. You have been warned.

  
Amongst the crowd of Mummy’s holiday party guests, I scarcely noticed the two gentlemen. They were neither fashionable, nor wealthy, nor young. I promptly ignored them, and would have forgotten all about them, except for the game of charades.  
  
The two men were pulled into the game by Mummy. The moustached man acceded with good-natured cheer, but the tall, thin one did not trouble to hide that he only agreed for politeness’ sake. Very few people can resist Mummy so well. That was interesting. I exerted a little effort and found myself assigned to their group.  
  
Father is fond of competition, so there were three teams, with a prized bottle of brandy to be shared by the winning group. The moustached man seemed impressed by the bottle, and even the thin man raised an eyebrow – although whether it was at the brandy, or at his companion’s reaction, it was hard to say.  
  
“Something worth the tasting, Watson?” he asked, sounding as if he already knew the answer.  
  
“I should say so, Holmes!”  
  
The thin man sighed and then smiled. “Then you’d best be chosen to act out these tiresome things.”  
  
I expected the moustached man to object, or at least ask why, but he merely nodded and went about volunteering to be the person to act the mystery subjects for our group with such gentle charm that no one truly resisted the idea.  
  
His first two attempts – for “Pride and Prejudice” and “the Duke of Wellington” - went well enough, with no input offered from the thin man. When he drew the third one from the hat, however, a strange little smile graced his face. He looked directly at the other man, and then dramatically pretended to sit down while sweeping one hand out, almost as if he was pushing aside skirts. He then pretended to pick something up and circled his imaginary object around, as a man might swirl spirits in a glass.  
  
The thin man – Holmes – lit up. “Chemistry,” he pronounced with no hesitation.  
  
And that was correct. The same thing happened with other subjects: “cipher” and “jack-knife” and “British soldier”. The moustached man scarcely had to make a single gesture, and his friend (for so he must be) knew exactly what was meant. It was clear, too, that the two men were having entire side conversations about these things, all with mere glances.  
  
Our group won handily. So impressively, in fact, Father summoned the butler to fetch another, equally old bottle of brandy from the cellars, and presented it directly to Doctor Watson as the man most responsible for the victory.  
  
I rather thought it was the pair of them, myself.  
  
I never saw either man again, not at any other party. I never knew why they’d been invited to this one. But I did learn one thing: one day, I wanted a friend of my own with whom I could have entire conversations in a look, and know so well that a single gesture shared a story.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted December 29, 2017.


End file.
